Dancing Through Sunday
by PeopleBoreMe
Summary: A short series of vignettes concerning the lives of Harry Potter and Seamus Finnigan. HPSF [warning: SLASH] AU
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Well, here I am, guiltily starting my second project. For those of you who are Harry Potter and the King of Kings fans, don't worry- I'm not abandoning it. This story will be HPSF and SLASH. The naughtier bits will come later.

This will be a series of short vignettes. A vignette is a very short scene, or snapshot. Each vignette is supposed to portray one emotion to go along with it. With this project, I'm more concerned about my writing style and imagery use than the actual plot, as opposed to my other project, which is exactly the opposite. I hope you guys enjoy it.

I also apologise for any mistakes you may encounter. I'm a new writer and I'm beta-less. If anyone wants to be my beta, you can drop me an email. I'd greatly appreciate it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Also, credit for the story title goes to A.F.I.

**Chapter 1- Innocence:**

They were twelve, and the world was new. The boy with viridian eyes walked- no, bounced- over to the huddle where the rest of his class was. The class, who had all abandoned their robes in favor of white button down shirts and black slacks, were outside for a Care of Magical Creatures lesson. Shortly into the session, however, their mammoth professor had deserted them to take someone to the hospital wing, his huge brown coat flapping after him in the breeze. The group of children only received a gruff "stay put" as instruction.

The air outside smelled sharply of what could only be described as nature. The fresh smell of newly cut grass mixed in with the salty air that drifted over from the lake, creating a light scent that infiltrated the senses, leaving one calm and relaxed.

The bouncing dark haired boy, though, could never be described as calm _or _relaxed. This particular boy, whose wild hair seemed to mimic his personality, could always be caught skipping around energetically, terrorizing the castle and its occupants.

The boy twirled around in circles before dropping to his back in the soft grass. The jade strands tickled his neck and face, but the boy stayed where he was. He twisted his fingers in the grass, feeling the soft, waxy texture, before yanking out a few strands and holding them up to his nose. The boy closed his eyes and sniffed his handful of grass, reveling in the scent they gave out.

He opened his eyes again and studied the forget-me-not blue sky that greeted him. It stretched on and on, never ending. The awesomeness of the sky amazed the boy and he smiled, his eyes crinkling happily at the edges. Nature seemed to have made a safe cocoon for the boy; he was surrounded by soft green grass and comforting blue sky. The cool breeze occasionally caressed his cheeks, as if it were Mother Nature herself.

The dark haired boy startled as a shape blocked his comforting sky from view. He relaxed, however, when he recognized that shape to be a friend of his. The boy was tall and lean, with sandy blonde hair and sky blue eyes. They sky behind him brought out the color of his eyes, in just the same way that the grass behind the dark-haired youth brought out his own eyes. The blonde boy's bowed lips curved skyward into a small smile. "Whatcha doin', there?" His Irish lilt was pleasant, and seemed to fade into the ever-moving breeze.

"Sittin'." The other boy answered. He opened his fist and watched as the grass was carried away by the breeze. It seemed to him as if the green strands were dancing, just as he himself had been a moment ago.

"I think I see the professor comin' back." The sandy haired boy extended a small hand to the first boy, who grabbed it and used it to pull himself off the ground.

"Thanks." He brushed himself off and continued bouncing towards the rest of his classmates, leaving his friend smiling behind him.

The flattened grass where the boy had been laying slowly sprung up and continued dancing in the wind.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **This chapter was beta'd by the lovely MysticSilverAngel, who has been doing an awesome job correcting my errors! Props! Also, thanks to those who reviewed- all three of you! Wooo!

I hope you guys like this chapter!

Disclaimer Applies.

**Chapter 2- Confusion**

They were fourteen, and everything was changing. The dark haired boy, now a hero, walked alongside his long-time friend. His companion's straw colored hair fluttered softly in the wind, reflecting the gentle glow of the moonlight. The hero and his friend had escaped the Yule Ball, where their peers were busy chatting and dancing, in favor of walking around the lake.

The two strolled along in silence, the only sound being that of the pure white snow crunching under their feet. The blonde boy watched as tiny ivory snowflakes danced through the air, eventually landing in the ebony tresses of his friend. They'd stick in his silken locks for a moment, before melting away, white fading into black. The hero's ruddy cheeks were flushed from the cold and occasionally he would blink, causing his inky black eyelashes to fan out against them. Sometimes, his small pink tongue would dart out from between his chapped, chewed lips to wet them.

"Is there something on my face?" As the hero spoke, white, visible puffs of air slipped from his mouth and swirled in front of his face, before evaporating.

The blonde's thin lips stretched into a sly smile. His blue eyes shone with the kind of mischievousness that only a teenage boy could have, before he scooped up a handful of unblemished snow and, quick as lightning, sent it hurling through the air.

The snow struck its target on the side of his head. "Now there is!" The blonde joyfully informed his companion. The clump of smooth, spotless snow slowly slid down the side of the hero's face, running over the flushed cheeks and down the smooth chin, before hitting the ground with a wet smack.

The sound seemed to have triggered something deep within both boys, for suddenly they were hurling shining, white projectiles through the air. Their carefree laughter echoed into the night as the two danced around each other in a snow-filled blur.

Their dance came to an abrupt end, however, when the hero tripped on a hidden tree root. He instinctively tried to steady himself by gripping the nearest thing to him, which happened to be his blonde comrade. His hands balled up in the front of the Irish boy's robes, tugging the bigger boy with him as he fell. As if in slow motion, the two tumbled to the ground, the Irish boy landing on top of the hero.

The blonde watched his friend, noting the blush that spread up his neck and painted the boy's cheeks a pretty red. The hero's midnight hair spread across the shimmering whiteness below him, creating a striking contrast. His bowed lips were open, forming a little 'o' of surprise, through which his hot breath escaped him and curled through the air.

Without warning, as if he was controlled by an outside force, the Irish boy lowered his head ever-so-slightly and pressed his lips to the ones below him. The kiss was innocent and chase, just the barest press of skin to skin.

Suddenly, the hero was aware of everything: the cold snow under him that seeped wetly through his robes, the warm body above him that lay between his thighs, the smoothness of the lips pressed against his own, the uncomfortable ball of white-hot something in his stomach that, all of a sudden, seemed to explode.

Panic and adrenaline raced through his veins, spreading from the tips of his fingers to the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair. The feeling was suffocating and foreign; it sped the beating of his frantic heart and made his stomach clench and his thighs shake. His head seemed to overflow with different thoughts and emotions, all of them conflicting and creating a roller coaster of feeling that swelled inside the hero, exciting and frightening him at once.

The hero's verdant eyes snapped open and he hurriedly shoved the other boy off of him. He picked himself up from the ground, not looking back as he bolted away from his friend and disappeared into the night. The darkness surrounded and comforted him; it hid him from everyone and everything and the boy was grateful.

The blonde sat in the adulterated snow where his comrade had left him. His blue eyes shone with hurt and bewilderment; his head pounded and his heart weakly beat inside his chest. Every beat seemed painful and slow. "Wait! Come back!" The enveloping darkness must have swallowed up his words, rendering them useless, for the hero did not return.

A/N: Review if you want! I'd greatly appreciate it : )

-PeopleBoreMe


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Here I am again! I know this fic isn't very popular, but for those of you who are reading it, I really hope you like it!

This chapter is, so far, un-beta'd. I'll post the beta'd version up when I get back!

The Disclaimer from the prologue applies.

**Chapter 3- Longing:**

They were fifteen, and nothing seemed right anymore. The distanced friends sat in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by their housemates. Though the room was large and welcoming, it was crammed with people. Friday nights were always this way; people sat on the red couches and armchairs, decorated the floors and windowsills, and even each others laps. Today, the hero and his friends had claimed the overstuffed couch by the glowing fireplace as their own. Five people had managed to squeeze onto the piece of furniture, leaving the others to sit on the floor in front of him.

Unluckily for the hero, he had gotten a seat on the couch. He sat uncomfortably between his oldest friend, a boy with flaming red hair, and his Irish friend. The hero barely even spoke to the blonde anymore; their relationship had been deteriorating since the night of the Yule Ball.

The blonde looked like hell. His eyes, though still blue, were dull and lifeless, lacking the sparkle of youth that they had once possessed. Dark circles decorated the skin below his eyes, making his face look gaunt and thin. His lips were bleeding red and chapped; it was obvious that the blonde chewed on them. His eyes were yearningly fixed on the brunette beside him. The boy was close to him; because of the number of people on the couch, they were crammed like sardines. This was the closest they had been in months. He could feel the warmth of the boy's side as it pressed against him. He relished in it and wished fervently that it would never end.

The hero didn't look much better. Though he still wore a smile, it did not quite reach his eyes. Instead, the verdant orbs held an artificial twinkle of happiness; he was determined not to let his friends know that he was troubled. His nails were short and bloody, bitten down to the quick. He was still small in stature, and he had recently grown alarmingly thin; his ribs stuck out above the smooth paleness of his belly unattractively and the vertebrae of his spine could be counted as they trailed from his neck to his tailbone in a graceful arch. When the hero lifted his arms, his shirt rode up and his sharp hipbones jutted out harshly from the waistline of his trousers, creating the small hollow space that should have been a healthy, flat abdomen. For the first time in his life, the hero was grateful for the oversized clothes his uncle gave him.

The hero felt a set of knuckles brush softly against his hand where it lay on the couch and retracted his hand as thought it had been burned. He spared an accusatory glance to the boy next to him; the blonde offered him a timid smile of apology. Suddenly, the room felt stifled and cramped, and the brunette had to escape. He stood up abruptly, interrupting his bookish friend. She had been nattering on to the rest of the group about the importance of getting homework done in a timely fashion.

"Oi, mate, where you goin'?" The redhead's comment wasn't anger or spite, just a casual inquisition. For some reason, it made the brunette nervous.

"Nowhere. I just… I just need some air. I'll be back in a mo'."

The blonde saw his chance to talk to his friend and he seized it, quietly following the brunette out of the portrait hole without explanation. The hero didn't seem to detect his unwanted companion. The blonde followed him to the top floor of a tower near the Gryffindor dorms. The dark haired boy seated himself on the ledge of a window and studied the grounds before him. The darkness outside transformed the usually murky blue lake into a still pond of ebony. The grass of the fields surrounding it was also black in the night; it rippled with the wind, almost making the tiny blades appear as if they were also part of the lake. The hero breathed slowly and deeply. Nature had always comforted and calmed the boy, and now was no exception.

The closeness of his blonde haired friend just a minute ago came back to him and he closed his eyes. He hadn't left because he didn't enjoy the closeness, oh no, quite the opposite. He enjoyed it _too much_. Why, oh why, had his friend kissed him on that fateful night a year ago? The hero wished he hadn't; things would be so much easier now. The kiss had stirred feelings deep inside his chest. Now, they swirled inside his mind and flowed through his veins. His love was like the life-giving blood that circled through him; drip, drip, drip and he loved the boy more. It was a bitter joy and a sweet agony all at once; it surrounded him and plagued him like an addiction and the hero couldn't stop.

The Irish boy stood a few feet behind his friend, just watching the brunette. His love for the boy in front of him was uncontrollable and wild; he did not push it away, no, he cradled and nursed it and it grew and grew. His love was second nature to him now; he did not remember what it felt like not to love the hero. He needed his love like he needed air and water and food; it was his world and it was to him larger than the cosmos and the heavens.

"…Why have you been avoiding me?" The hero jumped and whirled around to face the boy behind him. His heart sped up, pumping more thick, red blood through his body- drip, drip, drip.

"I haven't been avoiding you. I just- I've just been busy. School's been getting harder and-" the blonde cut him off.

"Come on, we both know that's a lie. You've been avoiding me since… since… last year." He finished lamely.

"I know. Listen… I know what you want. And I want the same thing. But I _can't_. There are too many people counting on me to be the Boy-Who-Lived. I can't be _gay_. It just… it just doesn't work that way!" A spark of true emotion showed in the hero's eyes for the first time in what seemed like months.

"Yes you can! No one's going to do anything to you! You have too many friends who'd protect you! _I'd _protect you." The blonde's voice was pleading.

"I know you would. I'm sorry. I've been stupid. But… can we- can we really do this?" The question was timid and hopeful and tinged with fear.

"Yes… I'll do anything- _anything_- for you." He took a few steps forward and enclosed the small hero in his warm, protective arms. The brunette closed the distance between their mouths in a timid kiss, just as chaste and pure as their first. This time, though, there was no explosion of realization and fear; this time, he knew what he wanted and loved every second of it.

"Okay." The hero's whisper marked the beginning of something wonderful. His heart had slowed now. It pumped blood in a steady, healthy, rhythmic pulse, drip, drip, drip. This time, the hero welcomed the drip. He'd cradle and nurse it and let it grow and grow.


End file.
